Look Down From the Stars
by BigMammaLlama5
Summary: The Earth Reaper Squad is a select group of six Chief Petty Officers chosen to carry out the most discreet operations. Sometimes the fate of the known Galactic Democracy rests on such a mission. Eventual Faberry.


**So. I had another idea pop into my head. I've been a Faberry shipper for a very VERY long time, but never had the drive to actually lead into the fandom… Well, until I stayed up too late one night and got a little loopy. I like where this is going, and I hope ya'll do too. I apologize to any authors in advance out there if this story seems similar to yours. Please believe me when I tell you this came purely from my love of Faberry, Sci-Fi, Mass Effect, and sleep deprivation. Let me know if it really is worth continuing!**

***NO, the new characters from season 4 and on will not be in this fic. I'm sticking to my guns with the good ole' original cast of the first three seasons. Sorry people.**

**M for brief, strong language.**

Look Down From the Stars

A solitary pair of military rubber-soled boots clicked quietly down the deserted corridor, the muffled sound barely echoing off the tiled floor and ceiling. Fluorescent lights hummed in their fixtures and exuded a garishly white light. The lone figure strode on purposefully, the mottled black and dark charcoal gray fabric of the fitted uniform absorbing the artificial rays. Matte-black Kevlar protective gear sewn into the arms and torso of the padded dress blues reflected dully and hardened the Soldier's profile. The left sleeve was adorned with patches and stripes for recognition of service. A single red diagonal stripe on the outside of the forearm indicated four years of service. On the shoulder of the same arm, a patch was emblazoned on the honeycombed Kevlar. A steely bird of prey with outstretched wings clasped the crossbars of an ancient naval anchor in its talons. Two gold chevrons floated underneath, but a third connected by an arc encompassed the anchor. Each wrist was banded by three white stripes that stood out starkly against the dark cloth. On the military personnel's left chest was a second, more subtle bird of prey, this time specifically a bald eagle informing others present that this particular person hailed from the United States of America. There was one last medallion underneath the eagle, a simple silver circular pendant with the scales of justice engraved on it.

At the end of the hall two Marines in full kit stood sentry at a single polished metal door. The approaching soldier came to a halt roughly five feet from the door and snapped to salute, staring blankly at their reflection. A very petite woman standing at a whopping five-foot three-inches was ridiculously dwarfed by the huge men. Her dark chestnut hair was pulled back tightly in the standard low bun of the military uniform and her tanned angular face had the barest dusting of makeup. No earrings adorned her lobes today, and a field cap of the same mottled pattern was pulled low on her dark brow. She was a strikingly beautiful woman; one that many thought, on first impression, wouldn't be so serious about her career. Or even _in_ a military career.

"Chief Petty Officer Berry, you're early. As usual." The burly dark man on the left greeted her evenly in a deep baritone rumble, not moving a muscle other than his mouth and eyes.

"A habit I refuse to break." She answered him, her voice a low rasp.

"Indeed. Well, you know the drill."

The young CPO broke from her salute and mechanically spun to her left and turned her back to the wall, falling in at ease. She didn't speak; there was no need to. Just a few short years ago the sentries would have had to put up with her thoughtless yammering, but events cause people to change. Though her main reason for not speaking was because she needed to save her blasted, once cherished, voice. So the three stood in silence except for their soft breathing, their bodies as still as stone. Minutes passed and finally _way_ down the hall, another figure in an identical uniform as CPO Berry's rounded the corner. It was another woman, but slightly taller with flaxen hair. Neither woman looked at the other as the newcomer saluted and took her place next to her comrade.

"Berry." Came the low melodious greeting.

"Fabray."

They stood mutely for a few moments, obviously at ease with each other but only to a certain extent. There was an undercurrent of ever-present rivalry constantly clashing between them. Finally, CPO Fabray decided to breach the quiet and initiate their pre-briefing ritual of terse small talk.

"How was your shore leave?"

"Decent… Got to see daddy before he left for the Station again. You?"

"Boring. Mother was smothering me as usual."

"Same. How's your back? Check up go okay?"

"Yeah. It was just a loose connection, no big deal."

"_No big-_ you _lost_ the feeling in your left leg."

"I could still walk."

"Barely."

"Shouldn't you be resting your voice, Whoopi Goldberg?"

"That's a new one. Did you have to dig deep for that, Caribou Barbie?"

Their routine of snarky banter was interrupted by a clamor at the end of the hall, revealing four more uniformed soldiers. Once again, all rankings were identical, an unheard of occurrence except for this particular select squad. There was one other woman in the small troupe, of Puerto Rican and African American decent roughly the height of CPO Fabray. They could see her attitude from a mile away and it made the two waiting women roll their eyes in mild exasperation. With the spitfire, there was a huge linebacker of a man, a tall and willowy yet muscular Chinese American man, and a thin Caucasian man in a special needs chair. When they got closer, the four quieted down and fell to attention in front of their already-waiting squad mates. CPO Berry twisted her left arm up and the time briefly flashed a holographic green projection a scant inch above her wrist.

She sighed softly through her nose and cleared her throat gently. "Alright, let's head in."

The CPOs fell in and silently entered through the small metal door one of the marines held open. The office was large and roomy but starkly simple except for the wall behind the large brushed steel desk. Red file cabinets and glass bookcases of awards and commendations stood against the wall to the left and a small sitting area of two low-slung black leather couches and a rare wooden coffee table of mahogany to the right. The wall behind the desk was covered in a messy network of organized chaos; images of dangerous looking men and _Gatojeros_, shipping rosters, ship logs, passenger traveling logs and documents, lists of coordinates and their significance, a massive list of victims, and an ever expanding list of crimes committed by the criminals projected out from the wall. The squad of six lined up in front of the desk and snapped to attention as the Rear Admiral seated at the desk finished reviewing the document she had pulled up on her tabletop. She was a severe, middle-aged blonde woman with one of the toughest attitudes you could ever witness.

"At ease, maggots." She took the next few seconds to swipe some data packages to the squad and they immediately opened them on their PDIs, the green holographs casting each blank face into eerie relief.

"This is all of our current intelligence on your next assignment. You are to travel to the Yahmehtaii System with a team of the _Gatojero_ Government's finest men to take down this intergalactic cartel."

"With all due respect Ma'am, I didn't sign up to run out _cartels_."

"I don't care if you signed up to steal candy from snot-nosed little brats. You will do what I tell you to do, CPO Lopez, and you will like it." The woman snapped in a drawling no-nonsense tone, pushing up from her leather chair and gesturing to the wall behind her. "Now if we're all done being whiny little bitches, let's continue."

"This isn't _just_ a cartel. This is a highly intricate network of criminal scum that has been eluding any and all attempts from both Earth's _and_ Alien countermeasures. They have been raiding our outposts, stealing our weapons and supplies, and then selling them to the highest bidder. Textbook black market deals _except_ for the fact that their biggest clients are also the biggest war criminals in living existence. Our eyes and ears have told us that they're planning on mounting a full scale invasion of the Station and we just can't have that."

Six bodies tensed and flew into full alert, vibrating with barely contained anxiety and anger. The Station was Earth's port to the Systems in the Milky Way and beyond. Many service men and women served on the massive space station that orbited just passed the lone moon. And many of those people were friends and family of the few standing in the room. The commanding officer noticed their distress and a grim smirk stretched across her wrinkled face, her blue eyes cold chips of flint filled with an almost maniacal look.

"_Now_ you see why you are on this task. Your task is to infiltrate and take down as many -if not all- of those shit-eating motherfuckers. I don't care _how_ you do it as long as you get along with your new _Gatojero_ buddies. Speaking of them, they arrived at the Station at oh-six-thirty this morning. You have until eleven-hundred hours to gather your kits and catch a shuttle. Departure is at noon on the dot, and if you are not there you _will_ be stripped of your rank and dishonorably discharged."

"_Dishonorably discharged?!" _CPO Berry gasped, but the shock was evident on all of their faces.

The Rear Admiral relaxed just a fraction, a mix of pride and pity and grimness flickered across her face. "I will not lie to you Rachel, this order came from the very top of the food chain. The six of you are my greatest accomplishment, do _not_ let me down."

The six snapped to salute, and CPO Berry rasped out, "We won't let you down, Admiral Sylvester."

"Dismissed."


End file.
